


Happiness

by PastelBlueDahlia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Blood and Injury, Day 6, Established Relationship, Injury Recovery, Internal Monologue, M/M, Nobody Dies, Russian Mafia, Smut, YOI Mafia Week, Yuuri Is A Bodyguard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 07:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBlueDahlia/pseuds/PastelBlueDahlia
Summary: „I'm sorry. For not protecting you. For not staying by your side."„You‘re right, I should fire you,“ he says, smiling for what feels the first time today, exhausted but the faint lines around his mouth get more noticeable and Yuuriloves, „You‘re the worst bodyguard I had until now.“ For some reason, Viktor laughs at that.- - -Viktor gets injured, and Yuuri reflects on his love to Viktor





	Happiness

 

 

 

Yuuri takes a deep breath before he opens the door.  
  
He doesn‘t know what waits for him beyond.  
  
He heard what happened from others already, but something about it wrapped his head up in cotton, soft and solid, impenetrable, and it disconnects what he should feel effectively to what he actually feels. The lines are blurred, were blurred a long time ago, the clear cut white and black mixed into a gray, and Yuuri‘s head pounds if he thinks about it too hard.  
  
There are things that only happen to others.  
  
Especially this is nothing that would happen to _him._  
  
Yuuri is not easily shocked anymore. But that doesn‘t stop his hands from shaking, it doesn‘t stop the white noise in his ears, it doesn‘t help him calm his ragged breathing. He still remembers when his pills almost killed him, his shaking, clammy hands too cramped to hold the little box. Yuuri is not weak, he knows that by now. But sometimes there are things that make him weak, softer.  
  
The thing that frightened him the most was not hearing what had happened.  
  
The worst thing was being surrounded by voices, by bodies, talking and screaming and running and swearing, Yuuri not able to follow, not able to hear against the buzzing, against the squeeze in his lungs, his mind blank and terribly dull.  
  
All Yuuri could do was stand there in the middle of it, like a mad men trying to stand against the tide, against the storm, calm while everything was breaking apart, and in some part of his mind Yuuri could almost hear the waves breaking and bleeding out on the sharp rocks of the cliffs.  
  
It‘s not that he never learned Russian.  
  
But Viktor liked talking in English to him, as if their shared language would somehow separate him from his other subordinates, as if that would make him special. English seemed to be the little bell Yuuri wore around his neck, dangling and tinkling, and Viktor couldn‘t help but look delighted whenever he heard it, perking up just the tiniest bit whenever Yuuri entered the room, even when he was in the middle of an important conversation. Viktor would always sit a bit straighter, his smile a bit sharper, as if Yuuri‘s presence would remind him that he did this all to protect Yuuri.  
  
He knows he is conceited thinking that way.  
  
Today, Viktor doesn‘t perk up.  
  
Today, Yuuri‘s presence won‘t give him strength.  
  
Today, Viktor is nothing but a blank space when Yuuri thinks about him.  
  
There is no smile, no smoke on his lips that threads itself like fingers through his hair, no heated, expensive fabric under his pointed fingertips.  
  
And there is still this lingering feeling of unease, a heated itch right under his skin, under his too tight clothes. Maybe the only thing waiting for him on the other side of the door is an empty bed with white, sterile sheets.  
  
Yuuri opens the door.  
  
Viktor apparently heard the imaginary little bell around Yuuri‘s throat already from afar. His eyes are trained at Yuuri, and he looks like he waited like this for years, his eyes centuries old and his smile nothing more than a practiced, thin line. It‘s terrible, because everything Viktor does is effortless, graceful, easy, and it looks like he is trying his best to look like the Viktor Yuuri knows, and it breaks his heart because this is not what he wants, not what he expected, and if he could he would run away from this room and never turn back.  
  
He doesn‘t.  
  
Feelings and memories weight him down, making his legs useless except for going forwards.  
  
„You‘re late.“ Viktor rasps, and Yuuri closes the door behind him. It‘s not the first time he locked out the entire world for the two of them, but it‘s the first time Yuuri craves to be outside, to see the sky and clouds or rain and finally breathe because the hospital air is clogging up his throat, burning his lungs black.  
  
„I‘m sorry.“ is all he can say. He knows it‘s wrong, not nearly enough and doesn‘t even reach at his actual feelings but it‘s hard looking at Viktor. He isn‘t covered by the duvet, and it lies as a crumbled pile at the end of his bed. They dimmed the lights as if they want him to sleep, but the bandages around his torso are bright, glowing white as if they shaved off his skin to make the bones underneath visible.  
  
It‘s like looking at a mirror because Yuuri can feel the wound on his own body, feels the sting and the stitches, his knees going weak. He wants to wrap his own arms around himself, make himself smaller. Instead he balls his hands to fists.  
  
„Let me tuck you in.“ he says, wrapping the words in steel because he is afraid that Viktor will notice how the tears are sitting right in his throat. Viktor just smiles softly, shaking his head.  
  
„Don‘t, I‘m hot.“  
  
Yuuri stands right besides Viktor, looking down at him, his fingertips grazing the cold, white sheets. There is red blood seeping through the bandage, and it looks so wrong, in a childish way he wants to cry and sleep, to not have to look at this. His fingers twitch as Viktor‘s cold fingers slip under his sleeve.  
  
Yuuri stares into Viktor‘s blue eyes, and it reminds him of glass, and Viktor stares up at him with an unreadable expression. Yuuri wonders what he sees.  
  
„Come here...“ Viktor whispers, his voice thick and hoarse as he stretches his arms out to Yuuri. All it takes for Yuuri to wrap his arms around him is a twitch of his eyebrow, pain flickering over Viktor's face as he rises his arm.  
  
Viktor‘s chest and back are cold and sweaty. He is ghostly white like the sheets, and what Yuuri always found beautiful and special now terrifies him, reminds him of bloodless corpses. Viktor smells like hospital, the disinfectants have seeped through his clothes ad hair and skin and _this is barely Viktor,_ Yuuri can‘t help but think as his throat constricts, but he only tightens his hold on him like he still is.

Viktor grabs the back of Yuuri‘s dress shirt, clinging to it right between his shoulder blades as he pulls him closer. The bed is narrow, the mattress hard, but Yuuri still shrugs off his shoes and climbs onto it just to be closer.  
  
Viktor traces the lines of Yuuri‘s face slowly, and it makes shivers run down Yuuri‘s spine. It feels like he wants to smooth every line he left, the crease on his forehead, the little scar he got when a bullet almost killed him, but also the laugh lines he only recently discovered, the faint lines around his mouth, also from laughing, and Yuuri feels the overwhelming, abysmal fear that Viktor wants to erase every trace he left on Yuuri. As if he wants to remember everything about him, absorb it.  
  
„I‘m sorry.“  
  
Viktor stills, his eyes suddenly awake.  
  
„What for?“  
  
Yuuri holds Viktor‘s sweaty hand against his face, closing his eyes as he tries to fight off the nauseating feeling that sits low in his gut, pressing down from the inside. Viktor looks pale and sick and foreign, like he will disappear any moment, a sheer curtain fluttering in a storm.  
  
He shallows thickly before speaking, his tongue glued to his mouth.  
  
„For not protecting you. For not staying by your side."  
  
„You‘re right, I should fire you,“ he says, smiling for what feels the first time today, exhausted but the faint lines around his mouth get more noticeable and Yuuri _loves_ , „You‘re the worst bodyguard I had until now.“ For some reason, Viktor laughs at that.

Viktor slides closer and runs a hand slowly through Yuuri‘s hair, his fingernails grazing his scalp until something cold and liquid runs down his spine. Viktor has dried blood under his fingernails. Their noses touch, and Viktor is nothing but a white blur with two blue dots. Viktor‘s nose is cold.  
  
„What else do you want to be?“ he whispers in the space between their mouths, and it‘s easier to admit this to the blue dots, to Viktor as a blur, it‘s easier to say it here, quietly, disconnected from everything and he answers the thing that‘s always, always on his mind:  
  
„ _Happy._ I want to be happy.“  
  
The reaction spreads like poison on Viktor‘s features, contorting them. He sits up, more abruptly than he probably should which makes Yuuri wince inwardly, and he wants to say something, would say something if Viktor's gaze wouldn‘t be this piercing and cold. Yuuri‘s heart races.  
  
It‘s always easy to pretend that Viktor won‘t look at him like he looks at others, but it‘s not the truth.  
  
„ _G_ _o_ ,“ he says sternly, and Yuuri‘s heart turns cold and hard in his chest like a stone, „Go and live a happy life somewhere. You won‘t find it here. I can‘t give-“ Viktor presses his lips together tightly to stop them from spilling his fears, his jaw clenching and unclenching rapidly. His paper white skin crinkles.  
  
Yuuri is the black ink that stains him.  
  
He closes his eyes and tries to calm his breathing.  
  
„You _know_ this is not what I meant.“ Even to his own ears his voice sounds weak, broken, whiny, and Viktor is already pulling off his pants and underwear and throws them on the floor.

„I know why you‘re staying.“ he says, smiling almost frantically, desperate as he lets his hand glide down his body and over the bandages. Yuuri‘s eyes are glues to the blood patch. He wants to scream.  
  
„Viktor, you know that-“ he shuts him up as he starts rutting against Yuuri‘s thigh, trying to claw off his pants with shaky fingers, his movements frantic. Yuuri let‘s it happen. The buzzing in his ear is there again, louder and louder, his head numb and white, and he wants to scrape his heart out and hand it to Viktor so it‘s less painful and he finally understands, and he wants this to _end, end, end._ Yuuri doesn‘t even know what he wants to end. He is afraid of the answer. He knows Viktor would misunderstand, so he keeps his jumbled thoughts to himself and let‘s Viktor straddle his lap, let‘s his hot breath wash over his face because it means he is alive, not gone, and Yuuri still has time.  
  
Viktor pulls down Yuuri‘s underwear, stroking their cocks together, and all Yuuri wants is to kiss him softly, to take his mind off his demons which is cowardly, because Viktor never managed to free him of his own.  
  
_Since when has being together become this draining?_  
  
„Say you want me.“ Viktor pants in Yuuri‘s mouth with a desperation that makes Yuuri‘s stomach churn. He wants to pry Viktor off him and shake him until he listens. Yuuri gets hard regardless and he hates himself for it, and a tiny part of him hates Viktor for this too because he always, _always_ does this. Always pushing Yuuri away, leaving him an open door to leave as if Yuuri is a frightened animal and just needs the last push to finally run into freedom, just so Viktor can lure him in again with sex, rewarding him each time when Yuuri stays instead of goes how Viktor expects.

As if this would be the only reason why he stays. As if he doesn‘t try his best to show Viktor how much he means to him through his touches, the only way Viktor accepts comfort.  
  
Maybe, if he had tried words for once, Viktor wouldn‘t have left alone.  
  
Maybe he wouldn‘t be in the hospital then.  
  
Maybe Viktor wouldn‘t have to bleed out on cold concrete.  
  
Maybe they would still be in Viktor‘s bed, taking a day off how Viktor calls it when they stay in his apartment the whole day, doing nothing but fuck and sleep the until their muscles are sore, and then when they are satisfied and clean and glowing, brimming over with life, they dress up in the evening and go to fancy restaurants. Yuuri loves those days because Viktor takes off the Nikiforov mask and is entirely Yuuri‘s, and he is allowed to intertwine their hands and kiss him and play footsie under the table and Yuuri can barely remember any time in his life he was happier because everything pales in comparison.  
  
Today, Viktor‘s love is consuming and terrifying. It‘s not the light and bubbly thing Viktor sparkles with over his champagne glass, this is a white ghost with bloody bandages who can‘t see Yuuri from sheer fear of being alone.  
  
Viktor wants and wants and wants and Yuuri only has so little left to give, has only shreds left he holds close to his chest because if he would give this last thing to Viktor, if he knew how much Yuuri loves him, if he knew just how much pain he causes Yuuri through the smallest things, then maybe he would end all of this, maybe Viktor would lose interest in an already claimed and used toy who is his to the core.  
  
Viktor still wants more, cowardly, selfishly. Desperately.  
  
_He is like a parasite,_ Yuuri thinks idly as he tangles his hand in Viktor‘s hair.

The thought alone makes a deep satisfaction settle in his bones, a quietness that makes the buzzing and white noise finally disappear. Yuuri tried and tried and tried to understand his actions, his thoughts, and it became easier and easier to read him, to see just where the mask ends and Viktor begins, and yes, he fell in love somewhere, sometime, gradually. And it felt good knowing that Viktor treats him special, different from others. Viktor never treated him as the strange foreigner, the man nobody could take seriously, the man who doesn‘t understand Russian, who doesn‘t fit in.  
  
It felt good to walk beside Viktor, felt good to see people ducking their head before him, knowing just how furious Viktor would be if someone dared to say something against Yuuri.  
  
He was conceited, wanting a higher position, thirsting for confidence, waiting to finally built himself his own perfect mask just like Viktor to hide everything behind it, all while Viktor gave and gave and gave, unknowingly, smiling at Yuuri like he was the gift.  
  
Maybe Yuuri was the parasite all along.  
  
All it took him to realize this is a shooting, a Viktor who isn‘t entirely Viktor anymore, someone who‘s loneliness is so clearly written in his face it shatters the shreds of Yuuri's heart he still holds, reluctant to give them away, thinking about himself, thinking of preventing getting hurt when he actually should have prevented hurting _Viktor._  
  
Maybe the reason why Viktor so desperately clings to people, why he is so scared that he will be alone and begs them to not abandon him through his actions, his sweet-talking, expensive gifts and his body is because he learned over the years that everyone is a parasite.  
  
Aiming for more, more money, more sex, more _happiness._  
  
Willing to sacrifice Viktor‘s happiness at any given moment.  
  
Yuuri feels nauseous.  
  
„I‘m sorry,“ he sobs, tears hot on his face and Viktor‘s eyes burning holes into his skin merciless, „I‘m so sorry, Viktor.“  
  
Like so often, Viktor looks like he understands, but they miss each other by a hairbreadth as he smiles softly and kisses Yuuri‘s trembling lips.  
  
„I know.“  
  
And Yuuri will never forget the way Viktor‘s eyes gleam in the light with recognition, knowing everything.  
  
_Oh,_ Yuuri thinks as he pulls Viktor closer at the back of his neck, _maybe we‘ve been using each other the whole time._

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this got surprisingly dark and angsty? I just really wanted to write something for the yoimafiaweek, and then this happened. I feel like it doesn't make that much sense because I could write a whole fic like this and 2k are not enough? But I hope you still could enjoy this a bit.
> 
> Thank you for reading ♥♥♥


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